


COVID Oneshots

by BoughtMyWayIntoPopCulture



Category: City of Love: Paris (Visual Novel)
Genre: COVID19, Gen, Honestly just trying to make something in this challenging and trying time, More tags to come later, Other, oneshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23669263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoughtMyWayIntoPopCulture/pseuds/BoughtMyWayIntoPopCulture
Summary: A series of one-shots surrounding present circumstances, specifically COVID-19.  Mix of genres.  Multiple pairings.
Relationships: Other pairings to follow - Relationship, Vincent Karm/Original Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	COVID Oneshots

**Author's Note:**

> Exactly what it sounds like. Even those of us working from home are dealing with the ramifications of the ease by which this spreads. This is partially inspired by freckleslikeconstellations’ piece, COVID-19, and partially a way to explore the other facets of the current climate. Parts of this, if I finish it, will be dark. 
> 
> I say this as someone who’s had to turn off the news, stay off social media, and focus on my job: if this subject is emotionally stressing, please don’t read.
> 
> And if you experience symptoms or think you or a loved one have been exposed, contact your health care provider and find your nearest testing site.
> 
> This first chapter is compliant with the AU I've established for RITD and involves a CanonxOC pairing. This is likely show up more than once as well.

In true American fashion, she’d been oblivious to the world around her. She heard the news, and saw it, but it wasn’t until the tourist from China died that it hit her. For one of the people responsible for saving Paris, it was embarrassing to realize that the signs were there but she’d been too caught up in her own world to realize it. 

Understandably so, given that anyone and everyone with money and art seemed to flock to her gallery once it re-opened. 

Audrey Kingsley was off investigating the outbreak in Wuhan in January and it didn’t occur to Sophia that perhaps there was something to be concerned about. The other woman was obsessive, chasing stories as if her life depended on it (maybe it did), but that the journalist had to quarantine herself for at least two weeks didn’t seem troubling back in January. 

On more than one occasion, Sophia found herself scolding the younger woman and asking, “God, would you turn off the news?”

An impossibility for the Arizona native.

It wasn’t made any easier by the fact that she was in Paris, alone. Vincent had taken it upon himself to stay outside of Paris, not even bothering to come back with her in January as they usually did after the holidays. He could work remotely and there were a few things that needed work at the chateau; if he wasn’t there, he felt it wouldn’t be done properly. It was amended with a promise that one of the fixes was, in fact, the master suite of the house along with a workspace for larger paintings that needed refinishing.

The hole in her heart wasn’t eased much but she’d spent two years without him; what was a few months?

The arrangement hadn’t lasted long and by mid-March, she was handing large suitcases to Eugene and ushering Theodora into her crate in the back of an SUV. An hour outside of the city wasn’t all that far, and it was a privilege to be able to even make the trip at all.

When they arrived, Sophia found herself unable to keep her face composed, although she wasn’t quite sure if it was out of astonishment or frustration. Several trucks lined the drive, some branded and others not, all for various purposes. The roof was re-done, she could see, the gutters replaced and the façade of the house power-washed and touched up. She’d been on enough construction job sites as a child to recognize the general workflow and usually a crew of this size, with multiple jobs at the same time, was reserved for a total gutting out a house or a new construction.

“Eugene, what exactly…”

“You’ll see,” the valet replied dryly.

He wasn’t wrong.

And in her husband’s defense, the house looked amazing. 

Vincent beamed as he took her around the house, dodging workers all the while, with Eugene bringing up the back of the line. The old charm remained while modern amenities were added. The floors were polished. The walls were newly painted or wallpapered. The kitchen had a beautiful new cabinet set and breakfast nook. Rooms were still covered in sheets, clearly works in progress, but when Eugene was shooed away to go check on the dogs, she knew Vincent was far from finished.

This wing, the one that overlooked the back garden, was the quietest by far. Sophia couldn’t help stopping and staring at the designs and colors of the flowers and manicured shrubs.

She knew this was how he coped with things being out of his control, bringing everything else back under his reign. All of this was frivolous, putting their health and that of the workers at risk to soothe his unease. At least in this instance, it was understandable. Dumb, but understandable. Prison had simply been a show of power. This…this was a prime example of just how out of control he felt, beautiful though it was.

“How are your parents?” Vincent asked, backtracking when he realized she was no longer following him.

Another thought that ate at her if she kept it in her mind too long. Her mother hadn’t taken precaution with painting until later in life, when asthma and other problems were already turning their heads. New Jersey wasn’t as bad as its counterpart but it was only a matter of time. 

“Their neighbor is doing groceries run for them and my dad is waking up at 3AM to get a time slot for deliveries for other stuff…so far nothing’s changed. Sometimes, no news is good news.”

It sucked, being so far away from them, not being able to help. Here she was, in a mansion being redecorated, and her parents were an ocean away. She’d have to find a way to thank the younger family across the street for helping once all of this was over.

They made their way to the room at the end of the hall, slower this time, Vincent’s excitement tempered by the worry that seemed to come in like an under-toe as of late, strong and unrelenting in its grasp. It was so easy to drown in the panic and the news cycle before all of this; sometimes it felt like just doggy-paddling through the day was cause for celebration.

Vincent covered her eyes before they stepped into the suite and she could _feel_ the pride and exuberance coming back full force, his body practically vibrating with energy as the solemnity from before was shed like a heavy fur coat.

“Now, before you lecture me, just know that I had your comfort in mind.”

If she could roll her eyes, she would have. 

Vincent let her explore the entirely-revamped space, from the much larger closet that was home to most of her gowns, to the bathroom with a large soaking tub overlooking the garden. The bed, too, was new, she discovered; Sophia flung herself backwards onto it in a moment of pure escapism, the mattress firmer but somehow managing to cushion her all the same. It was the closest thing she ever considered what sleeping on a cloud would feel like.

“There’s still more to see, you know,” Vincent drawled, coming up to the foot of the bed, amusement etched into his features.

“Oh, I have no doubt,” Sophia replied, patting the empty space beside her. “But for now, can we just…”

She turned onto her side, watching as he removed his shoes and jacket, draping the garment carefully on the arm of the plush chair in the corner, no doubt meant for when she felt like curling up late at night. She expected a teasing remark with a sexual undertone, something snarky and yet utterly true. But instead, he was quiet, and she wondered if he, too, gave in to the low-grade wave of grief and frustration that was all too prevalent now and instead of burying his head in the sand, let himself feel it. 

She hadn’t had another person’s touch in two months (not even a hug or handshake, and she was beginning to wonder what those felt like) and for once, she was just wanted to remember the warmth of being next to someone. It was amazing how, despite having been away from him for two years, two months felt like a century. They drifted off into a haze of not-quite-sleep, nestled against one another, the world, for now, forgotten.


End file.
